The Marching Razorbacks
by Coquine
Summary: AU fantasy fic. The gang's all here, and they're all in their high school band. Follow the Scoobies through their senior year and all the fun and romance along the way. BS, WT, XA. CH 4 UPDATED!
1. Getting To Know You

DISCLAIMER: Nothing but the story is mine. All hail Joss.

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Tara Maclay shifted uneasily in her chair, fiddling with the latches on her flute case. She just moved to Sunnydale, and today was her first day of band camp, two weeks before classes start. Her old high school only had a concert band, no marching. And now she was waiting to meet her new director. So she was understandably nervous.

The office door opened, and a middle aged man in a tweed jacket came in, followed by a pretty redhead in a pink 'hello kitty' t-shirt.

Tara stood, smiling nervously. The man held out his hand, introducing himself quickly.

"Hello, you must be Tara," he said with a kind, and surprisingly British, voice. "I'm Mr. Giles, your new band director."

"It's n-nice to meet you," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Please, sit down," he gestured to the chair she had just vacated, then removed his jacket and sat on the edge of his desk in front of her. She watched as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up his forearms. "You're a senior this year, correct?"

"Yes."

"And your last school had no marching band?"  
  
"Yes. I mean--no. It didn't."

Mr. Giles smiled kindly. "And so I imagine you're quite nervous."

Tara sheepishly returned his smile. "Yes."

"Well, you needn't be. You'll get the hang of it in no time. And you won't be alone. The incoming freshmen have as little knowledge as you do. This is Willow Rosenberg," he gestured to the other girl. "She is the flute section leader. I thought she might show you around, introduce you to everyone. Willow?"

"Hi!" she said cheerily, waving a hand quickly. "It's always great to get another flute player. We're so quiet compared to the rest of the band."

Tara smiled. She thinks she's going to like Willow.

"Well, we'll be starting here shortly. Why don't you two get going."

"'Kay. C'mon…Tara, was it?" Tara nodded. "'Kay. I'll be your tour guide for the day," she said in an official tone as she opened the office door with a flourish, waving Tara ahead of her.

"So," began Willow, hooking her arm through Tara's and almost dragging her down the hall, "how long have you played?"

"Um, s-since I was little. I think fourth grade?"

"Yeah," Willow nodded. "That's about when I started, too. My mom wanted me to play an instrument as soon as I could, she said it was 'empowering' and 'would help expand my mind,'" she said dramatically, eliciting a giggle from Tara.

They turned a corner and came to a set of double doors. Willow pushed them open, revealing a huge carpeted room with high ceilings, the walls dotted with sounding boards to prevent echo. "This is our band room."

"Wow. It's so nice."

"Yeah, this entire building is only two years old. The school actually decided to put some money into the music and arts programs instead of sports. This is where all the band, orchestra, and chorale classes are."

"That's so neat."

"I know, we were all so happy. Our old band room was getting seriously ragged. Well, I guess we'll start here. This," she arched an arm above her head, swinging it down to gesture the entire room, "is where all rehearsals are, both marching and concert band. This is where we meet for class time during the school year. And they," she swept her arm out in front of them, "are the band."

Tara watched the group of about fifty to sixty people positioning their chairs, retrieving instruments, setting up music stands, all the time talking and laughing with each other. Now she was nervous again.

Willow nudged her gently. "Hey. It's okay. We're all pretty much one big family around here, but we adopt often," she grinned. Tara gave her a grateful smile.

"Well," she continued, "I'll point out all the section leaders," and proceeded to rattle off their names, pointing them out of the crowd. "Okay, well now that the boring official stuff is out of the way, I can introduce you to some of the best people you'll ever meet: the Scooby Gang."

Tara's 'huh?' was cut off as Willow began shouting towards the trumpet section, trying to get someone's attention.

"Hey Xander, Anya!" she yelled over the din of chatting and instruments warming up. A dark haired boy and the girl next to him stood up.

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

"I want you to meet Tara! She's a new senior in flutes!"

"Hey, Tara, nice to meet ya! This is my girlfriend, Anya!" he reached a hand above the girl's head, pointing straight down to her.

"Hello!" yelled Anya.

Tara merely waved at them, afraid she'd start stuttering if she yelled back at them. They both smiled at her, then sat back down and continued setting up.

"They're great," said Willow. "I've known Xander since we were in kindergarten. He had the privilege of being my first crush," she smiled goofily. "Anyway, him and Anya have been together pretty much since they met freshman year. She takes some getting used to."  
  
"What do you mean?"

"She's kinda--well, no, not 'kinda'--she's very blunt. But not in a mean way or anything. That's just the way she is. We think maybe it's cause she's from New York. But, if she suddenly shares details on her and Xander's love life, don't be shocked. It's a regular thing."

"Okay," Tara laughed.

"Let's see, who's next? Ooh, there's Buffy," she said as she pointed to a petite blond coming out of one of the doors in the back of the room. "She just came out of the locker room, by the way. I guess I'm still supposed to be giving you the tour. Anyway, she's captain of the color guard team. She's the only senior on the team who's been on all four years. She's super cool."  


Tara watched as Buffy sat on the floor and began changing the flags on the poles from yellow to blue. She continued watching as a young man with bleached hair quickly snuck up behind Buffy, and used the drumsticks he was holding to do a rapid succession of drum rolls on her head.

"OW!" screamed Buffy. She turned quickly and used one of the flag poles to hit the boy on the back of the knees, sending him tumbling to the carpet. "You little shit! I'm gonna kick your ass!" she yelled, then proceeded to literally kick said ass.

"OW! Bloody bitch!" yelled the boy with a cockney accent.

Tara turned an alarmed face to Willow, and alarm quickly melted to confusion as she saw Willow's expressionless face. She turned back to see others' reaction, only to find that everyone was ignoring the pair wrestling on the floor.

"Wha--?"

"Don't worry. They do this all the time," remarked Willow dryly. "Let me give you a brief history of Buffy and Spike."  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"The bleached guy. His name is actually William, but he insisted on people calling him Spike. Even teachers call him that. Anyway. He moved here from England in the middle of our freshman year, and it was pretty much hate at first sight with them. It didn't help that Spike got into a fight with Buffy's boyfriend at the time, and pretty thoroughly kicked his patootie, but that's not really why they hate each other."

"Then why?"

"Ya know, when we figure it out, we'll let you know. I mean, the gang liked him. He's funny in that sarcastic kind of way. But any chance that they get to make each other's life miserable, they take." They watched as Buffy managed to get Spike in a headlock, flipping him onto his stomach and grinding his face into the carpet. Spike straightened his arms beneath him, bucking her off him before he tackled her.

Tara couldn't help but laugh at the display. "Maybe it's a case of 'my lady doth protest too much,'" she smiled, which quickly faded as she saw Willow's serious face.

"Um, no. Not so much. I know that cliché looks like it would work here, but no. They're not playing around. They really want to inflict pain on each other."

"O-oh."

"Yeah. They've been suspended I don't know how many times. They had one of their worst fights sophomore year. Buffy came away with a split lip and dislocated shoulder, and Spike had a broken nose and a black eye. She gave him that scar on his left eyebrow."

"Oh my god. Why hasn't--"

"The school done anything about it?" Tara nodded. "They tried. Put them into counseling and everything, but we think that made it worse. They just got into fights in the counselors office. No, we think the school is just assuming crash positions and waiting for them to graduate."

"That's just crazy."

Willow shrugged. "Amazingly enough, you get used to it. Especially me, Xander, and Anya, cause we're all friends with both of them, but they're not with each other. So we get to deal with them socially as well as in school. It's actually become almost a staple. Their constant bantering is just the soundtrack of the Scooby Gang."

"If you say so--"

"Oh, for god's sake!" came the sound of Mr. Giles voice. "Will you two bloody break it up!" he yelled at Buffy and Spike, who immediately separated and stood up. "Honestly, I'm amazed you two have only been suspended twice."

"Thrice," they responded in unison, then turned to glare at each other.

Mr. Giles rolled his eyes. "Just get set up. We're starting."

The two gave each other one last parting glare, then went to their respective areas. Mr. Giles stepped up to the conductor's podium, then picked up a loudspeaker and spoke into it.

"Welcome to the Sunnydale High School Marching Razorbacks. Now shut up."

The band as a whole giggled, then quieted down and gave their director their attention.

He set the loudspeaker down. "If everyone would find their seats." Willow pulled Tara over to the flute section, and they sat down next to each other. "Thank you. For any of you who don't know me, my name is Mr. Giles, but you may call my Giles if you wish. Everyone already does in this barbaric country." More giggles. "Now I'm only going to say these things once. Yes, I am from England, but I always wanted to teach music in the states, so here I am. I've lived and taught here for six years. Lastly, and most importantly, those of you who have met Spike, our percussion section leader, probably noticed that we share similar accents. However," began counting the points off his fingers, "we never met before he moved here, I am from Bath and he is from London, and we are most certainly not related."

"Thank god!" came Spike's voice from the back of the room.

The band members laughed, and Giles rolled his eyes. "At any rate," he continued, "the schedule for these next two weeks will be fairly tight. We have ten days, eight hours each, until school starts, and our first home game is the first Friday of the school year. That means we have fifteen days to learn our first show." A collective groan came from the band. "Yes, I'm not thrilled about it, either. Now, class meets on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from eight to nine-thirty. However, we will also meet for zero hour. For those who don't know what that is, it means that you are expected to meet here at seven a.m., five days a week, every week until marching season is over. We will meet in here, then proceed to the football field to learn coordinates. Now, for this first show, we'll only be learning three songs, but the show we're taking to contest is five songs. You'll all receive a copy of the year's schedule at the end of the day."

Willow leaned in towards Tara. "This is the really boring part, where he goes over all the rules and policies and uniform stuff. I'll fill you in later. Now I get to tell you all the juicy band secrets," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Okay," Tara whispered back.

"You see the farm boy standing up in the front, shuffling papers?"

"Yeah."  


"That's our drum major, Riley, and Buffy's ex-boyfriend."  
  
"The one Spike beat up?"

"No that was Angel. Long story short for them: Angel and Buffy started dating in middle school, then got really serious in high school. He was her first everything: first love, first kiss, first…you know." Tara blushed and nodded. "Anyway, they were really deep for just being in high school. Then at the end of freshman year, his family was moving to L.A., and instead of trying to do the long distance thing, he broke up with her quote 'for her own good' and pretty much broke her heart. She was really messed up for awhile after that, and she had this rebound fling with this guy from another school named Parker…ugh, total poop head. Anyway, when Spike moved here, he was this Big Bad who had a reputation to protect, and Angel was a pretty tough guy himself, so they butted heads a lot. It finally boiled over and Spike beat him up after he said some pretty nasty things."

"Wow. Sounds dramatic."

"It was. Very soap opera-y. Anyway, after Buffy finally got over Angel, she started dating Riley. They went out the second half of sophomore year and into junior year. Buffy was really happy with him, cause she thought she'd never find love after Angel, you know? Then, right before our junior prom, she found out that he had cheated on her with--get this--Spike's girlfriend, Drusilla." Tara gasped, getting lost in the story. "Yeah, so that really tore her up. Riley said that he didn't think Buffy loved him at all, that she would never get over Angel. He tried to make it sound like it was her fault that he cheated on her. Anyway, Buffy so dumped him after that. It was actually the one time when she and Spike got along. Kind of an 'enemy of my enemy' situation."

"So what happened to Spike's girlfriend?"

"Oh, Drusilla. Yeah, she was one interesting person. Kinda gothic, but really more like just plain weird. She talked to herself a lot, and we always wondered if she was on something, but Spike was head over heels for her. They'd hooked up almost as soon as he moved here, and he did anything for her. But she broke his heart when he found out she'd been cheating on him, and it turned out it had started way before Riley. Drusilla left quite a wake behind her. But soon after they broke up, she dropped out of school. She was never in class anyway. We don't know what happened to her after that."

"Um, what about you? Do you have a boyfriend?" Tara asked somewhat nervously.

"Ugh, oh boy, here comes another story. I was pretty shy and quiet freshman year, but then sophomore year this guy actually asked me out. His name was Oz and he was a year ahead of us. We met here in band, he was the percussion section leader before Spike. Anyway, yeah we had the big love. But he graduated last year and moved away to go to college. I thought we would stay together, but he told me that he needed to 'find himself,' and he could only do that alone. Again with the heartbreak. So I'm pretty sure I've sworn off guys for awhile."

"Oh," Tara blushed.

"Uh-oh, Giles is giving us the hairy eyeball. Better pay attention."

"As I was saying," Giles continued, "we will have sectionals until two, break for lunch for an hour, then go outside to learn the show from three until six. Those who were here last year remember the fiasco of having outside practice during the first half of the day--"

"Yeah!" yelled Xander. "Poor wittle Spikey burnt his lilywhite British ass!" The band members giggled.

"Well you wouldn't have ever noticed how burnt my ass was if you weren't starin' at it all the bloody time, you great poufter!" Spike taunted back, causing the band to erupt into full-fledged laughter.

"Don't mind them," Willow said through her giggles. "They act like they hate each other, but they're actually buddies."

"All right, everyone. Off to the practice rooms with you. I'll come around to each section to check on your progress, and to answer any questions you may have." Giles stepped down from the podium as the band gathered their music and instruments, and began filing out the doors.

"Where are we going?" Tara asked as she walked beside Willow.

"To the practice rooms. The middle of the building is this whole series of soundproof booths. They really went all out when they built this place."  
  
"Wow, I guess so."

Four hours later, Giles' voice came through the intercom speakers in each room, telling them it was time to break for lunch.

"C'mon," said Willow. "Now you can really get to know everyone better. Did you pack a lunch?"

"Oh, no, I didn't know I was supposed to."

"It's okay. You can either pack a lunch and eat here, or go home or to McDonalds or something. But for those of us who are vehically challenged, lunchboxes are pretty much the way to go. Don't worry though. We'll all donate a little something to the 'feed Tara' foundation," Willow giggled.

"Thanks," Tara laughed.

"Hey guys," Willow greeted the group that was sitting on the floor in one of the corners of the band room. Xander, Anya, and Buffy looked up and gave a collective 'hey.'

"So, first day back to the grind. How's everyone looking so far?" asked Willow.

"I think the team is going to be really good this year," said Buffy. "We have a lot of returning upperclassmen, and the freshman are catching on really quick. Almost too fast for me to choreograph the routines."

"Yeah, way to go with the big responsibility Buffster. I can't believe you're doing so much…making up the routines, picking out the uniforms and flags. You're a regular leader!" Xander exclaimed.

"Yes, we'll be very surprised if you don't combust from all the pressure," Anya added.

"Gee, thanks."

"Your welcome," beamed Anya.

The gang continued chatting and eating, and it was decided that Tara was now an adopted Scoobie. The hour seemed to fly by, and soon enough it was time to start getting ready to go outside.

"Oh, dammit," groaned Buffy. "I left my water bottle at home. Not cool for practicing in ninety degree weather. I'm gonna go get some water out of the vending machine. I'll catch up with you guys on the field?" 

"Alrighty," responded Xander.

"'Kay, be out it a few." Buffy turned and went out into the hallway, heading towards the vending machines. When she heard the door shut behind her, she turned around and went into the practice rooms area. She walked slowly through the corridor, her eyes searching.

She yelped as a hand shot out of one of the rooms, gripping her wrist and dragging her inside, the door closing after her.

"What took you so bloody long?" ground out Spike, before he crushed his mouth to hers.

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Hi everyone! So what do you think so far of my very first AU Buffy fic? Don't ask me where I got the idea, it just happened. Actually, most of the ideas are taken directly from my experiences in my high school marching band. Anyway, I know, not very much Spuffiness, but as you can probably tell, its coming. Oh, and I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist having Willow play flute…just my little ode to American Pie. One last thing: for anybody who's actually reading my other story "XOver," I'm sorry about the lack of updates. It seems not many people are interested in reading it, so I'm just going to finish writing the story and post it all at once, which will take god knows how long. Well, that's all for now.

Yapatchalata!

Coquine


	2. First Day

Buffy moaned into the kiss as it deepened, lips parting to entwine her tongue with Spike's, savoring the flavor of his mouth. Spike backed her up to the nearest wall, pressing the length of his body against hers. They broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and began frantically trying to rid each other of their clothes, seeking contact with each other's flesh.

"So?" Spike panted, shoving her tank top and sports bra up beneath her arms, revealing her breasts. "What took you?" he asked, before sweeping down and capturing a rosy nipple in his mouth.

"Ah!" Buffy threw her head back against the wall. "Willow, um, she brought ov--ER! Ah! New girl, Tara, she wanted us to meet…oh god!" she moaned when she felt Spike's palm slide down her abdomen, slipping inside her cotton shorts and rubbing his fingers over her soaked panties.

Spike buried his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at the tender flesh there. "We'll just have to do this fast, then," he growled against her skin, then raised his head to smirk at her. "Someone's a little wet."

Buffy rolled her eyes and reached down to cup him through the loose material of his athletic shorts, making him groan at the contact. "That's the pot calling the kettle blue, don't you think? How long have you had this hard-on?"

"Since the minute you walked in the door this morning, and you know it, wearin' those tight little shirts and short little shorts. Hussy."

"You love it."

"Bloody right I do," he mumbled, before capturing her lips again and hoisting her up against the wall, her legs wrapping around him in an oft-practiced motion. They both moaned as he ground his erection against her heated center, the thin layers of cloth between them doing little to block the sensation. Still…

"Mm--too many clothes," Buffy said against his lips, feeling him nod. She reached down and freed his shaft as he pulled both her shorts and thong to the side, exposing her silken folds. She positioned him at her entrance, both shuddering at the contact, and he slowly pushed his hips forward, slipping inside inch by inch.

When he was completely sheathed in her heat, Spike dropped his head forward to rest on her shoulder. "Not gonna last," he moaned.

"Me neither," she gulped. "Fast, then. Hard."

With a growl, Spike began pounding into her, her back slamming against the wall. She found herself thanking the soundproof rooms as their grunts and moans filled the air. When he felt her inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, he couldn't stop the groan from escaping.

"No…too soon…" he lamented.

"Unh! Soon enough! Please, Spike, come with me…now!"

"Oh god!" he shouted as he exploded inside of her, pushing himself as deep inside as he could get, crushing her against the wall as her entire body shook with her orgasm.

As they rode out the final waves, all their muscles seemed to liquefy, and they slowly slid down the wall to kneel on the floor.

"Oh god," Buffy whispered, pressing her forehead against Spike's. "Three days is way too long!"

Spike chuckled weakly. "Fuck yes, it is. 'S your fault, though. We could've seen each other this weekend, but no, you decided we needed to spend 'quality time' with the gang."

"But I felt so horrible all summer! Do you know how many times I had to give them some lame excuse so I could see you?"

"Yeah…about as many times as I did. I'm surprised they haven't sussed it out already, it's like we're bloody Clark Kent and Superman."

Buffy sighed and eased herself out of Spike's lap, both shuddering as he slipped out of her. She stood on trembling legs and righted her shorts as he tucked himself back inside his waistband.

"Um, could we move this to the bathroom? I don't think I can hold you in much longer," Buffy said, crinkling her nose in that adorable way.

Spike smiled a purely masculine smile as he grasped Buffy's hips and leaned in to kiss her on the neck. "Thought you said you liked bein' all filled up with me?" he whispered hotly against her skin, making her shiver. She recovered quickly, gently pushing him away and rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'll especially like you running down my leg while we're out there marching."

Spike chuckled at that, holding the door open for her and following her out, making their way to the single-room bathroom, which often served as a changing room before performances. He locked the door behind them and stood at the sink while Buffy pulled down her shorts and sat on the toilet, wiping herself with a wad of tissue. Spike wet some paper towels and handed them to her, then rinsed himself off as well. Their actions were completely comfortable and clearly routine, perfectly at ease with each other.

"There. So much better," Buffy sighed as she righted her clothing. She slid her arms around Spike's waist, kissing him softly. "I missed you," she murmured against his lips.

"Missed you, too." He pulled back slightly so he could see her face. "I'll see you tonight, though?" he asked hopefully.

Buffy sighed. "You know Mom always has the gang over for dinner the first day of camp." Spike merely raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Oh," she frowned. "I guess you're 'the gang' too, huh? I keep forgetting I'm supposed to hate you."

"And a right piss-poor job you're makin' of it," he laughed. "We're lucky nobody took notice of your wandering hands during our wrestling match."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Grab-Happy," she snorted. "Anyway, yes you get to see me tonight, but we can't be like this," she squeezed her arms tightly around his waist to accentuate her point. "We have to do the whole 'hate you blah blah hate you too blah blah' thing."

"Yeah, I know. Remind me again why we're goin' through so much trouble to keep this a secret?"

"Cause we don't want to deal with everyone we know having simultaneous strokes, or having to tell and re-tell the story of how we got together. Plus, it's our senior year, and none of the complicated stuff will really matter after we graduate."

"Oh, right. Well, remind me again why we were daft enough to decide on that?"

Buffy giggled. "Must've been the orgasm-induced stupor," she said, then leaned in for one last kiss. "We better get out there. With both of us MIA they probably think one of us has killed the other."

"Right," he nodded, and they made their way down the hall.

"Oh, wait!" Buffy stopped in her tracks. "Gimme a dollar," she held out her hand.

"What for?" Spike complained, even as he dug into his pocket.

"Cause my excuse was to buy a water. Thank you, snookums!" she gave a saccharine smile as she took the bill.

Spike merely rolled his eyes at the ridiculous pet name, which he knew she only said because he hated it, then turned and headed for the door.

Buffy bought her water quickly, then sprinted through the practice field in a shortcut to the football stadium. Spike was just entering from the opposite end zone as she met with her fellow guard members. She got them started on warm up exercises, then went up to Giles to get their charts.

"Nice of you to join us," he remarked, handing her the stack of papers which led the coordinates for the flag team.

"What?" she asked innocently as she held up her bottle. "I needed water. Perfectly legitimate reason. You wouldn't want us to die of heatstroke and get sued, now would you?"

"Ah, yes. What was I thinking. I see now that you were working entirely for my benefit."

"Yep. Entirely," she nodded.

Giles took a deep, calming breath, then picked up the megaphone and announced for everyone to find their first coordinate.

The very first rehearsal was always slow, going individually through and memorizing each coordinate, beat by beat. Then, once the first set was learned, they ran the song two or three more times. Then, Giles had them run it while holding their instruments, learning the 'horns up' and 'horns down' cues. Then they ran it while playing the music. Then, just for the hell of it, it seemed, he had them run the song one more time. Then finally it was time to go home.

The Scoobies, including now Tara, gathered next to the bleachers, all of them sweaty, tired, and gulping at their water bottles.

"So," Xander panted after he downed the rest of his water, "I'm thinking a short recess is in order to go to our respective homes and shower before the traditional meal at Casa Summers, no?"

"Oh, yes," nodded Willow. "Definite agreement."

"So, you all wanna come over around seven, then?" Buffy asked. There were nods and murmurs of assent, and Buffy continued, "Cool. Then I'm off to de-stickify myself." She pointedly ignored Spike's barely suppressed grin. "See you guys later."

They each went their separate ways, to drive home, or in Buffy's case, be picked up.

"So," Joyce asked her daughter, "how was the first day?"  


"Hot. Long. Tedious."

"The usual, huh?"

"Yeah," Buffy smiled.

"I assume I should be expecting the gang over at some point this evening?"  
  
"Yeah. I told them to come around seven. That okay?"  
  
"Of course. I just hope everyone is okay with plain old spaghetti."

"It'll be great, Mom."

As they pulled into the drive, Buffy reached out to clasp her mother's shoulder. "Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You know Spike is coming over too, right?"

Joyce nodded.

"So I don't need to remind you that you cannot under any circumstances mention anything about us being together, right?"

Joyce merely sighed and got out of the car, Buffy quickly following her into the house.

"Mom, please, we've been over this, you know I hate making you lie, but--"

"Buffy. It's not that. I just don't see why this has to be such a big secret. By keeping it quiet you run the risk of hurting all your friends that you didn't tell."

"I realize that, but think about how you reacted when you found out. You completely freaked!"

"I did not!" Off Buffy's look, she sighed. "Okay, so maybe I did. But you have to admit that I found out about it in quite a shocking way."

Buffy's cheeks tinted pink as she recalled that particular make-out session, when they thought she'd be at work, when in fact Joyce decided to take the day off after lunch. Luckily, only one or two articles of clothing had been shed.

"I'm just saying," Joyce continued, "I think it would be best if you would just sit down and explain it all to them. You're probably worrying about it too much."

"Maybe you're right," Buffy grumbled. "But, there's no reason why it has to be tonight. No--! Let me finish. All I'm asking is that you play it cool, okay? Spike and I aren't even going to be all couple-y, so there's not even anything for you to lie about. Just act normal."

Joyce fixed her gaze on her daughter for a moment, then acquiesced and nodded.

"Thank you," Buffy smiled. "I'm gonna go get washed up. What time is it?"

"About ten after six."

"Kay." Buffy trotted up the stairs, eagerly awaiting a hot shower. She stripped and turned on the spray full blast, scrubbing her skin until it tingled and glowed pink. She washed and rinsed her hair, then got out and toweled off, quickly darting naked across the hall to her room and closing the door behind her. She briefly considered what to wear, wanting something cute but casual. She picked out a strappy pink tank top, then discarded it when she thought of how Spike might suffer if he saw her in it. She settled on a pair of faded blue jean shorts and a white tee with a gold demon thingy on it. Honestly, Spike bought her the weirdest clothes.

Glancing at her alarm clock as she combed her hair, she saw that she still had half an hour until the gang arrived. She flopped backwards onto her bed, deciding to get a bit of rest before everyone got there. And she'd have to put the act on. Buffy sighed at the thought of having to act like she still despised Spike. Just faking it today at camp had been emotionally exhausting. She really didn't want to have to deceive everyone like this, but she still felt it was the best option at the moment.

Spike…she smiled when she thought of him. Who'da thunk it? Her smile widened as she replayed the series of events which would change her entire summer…and maybe her entire life…

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Hello, everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated. I got a combination of writer's block and too many ideas. I couldn't seem to write anything for this chapter, but I started two new stories. But don't worry, The Marching Razorbacks will remain my number one priority, due in large part to the amazing reviews I've received. I feel so loved! This is the most reviews I'd ever gotten for just one chapter. Much love to everyone who reviewed, and even to those who read but didn't review, because I'm notorious for doing exactly that. Anyway, be sure to let me know what you thought about this chapter. I'm still not completely satisfied, but I wanted to get something out. I've already started on the next chapter, which will tell the tale of how this all started, and will also hopefully answer the questions some readers asked, such as why would Spike be in marching band, wasn't he supposed to be the Big Bad, and why Buffy and Spike so often came to blows. Well, now that I've thoroughly bored you, if you're still reading this, I will wrap it up and continue writing the next chapter. And again, a thousand thank-you's to my reviewers. You help make this world go round.

Lata!

Coquine


	3. Weirdness

__

The previous June…

Buffy sighed as she continued to flip through the hundred or so channels on TV. Here she was, spending the first two weeks of her summer vacation as a couch potato. Her father had come to pick her up five days ago, bringing her to visit him in L.A. and she had spent maybe three hours with him…total. When he wasn't at work he was with his skank-of-the-moment, er, excuse her, his girlfriend. Or secretary, whatever he decided to call her. Buffy briefly wondered if he made her call him Mr. Summers all the time. Then gagged herself until she had successfully repressed that particular thought.

She sighed again, tossing the remote onto the couch cushion beside her. Dawn was one lucky little bitch. She was currently at summer camp, and unfortunately couldn't make it to the yearly visit to their father, which Buffy was sure just broke him up inside. Note the sarcasm.

Okay, that's it. Buffy stood and stretched her arms above her head, yawning. Then she went in search of her shoes. Here she was, in L.A., with some of the best shopping available to a young woman such as herself, and she was spending her time cooped up in her father's condo watching daytime…and afternoon, and evening, and late night television, just hoping her dad would decide to maybe have lunch with her. Well, no more. She had enough cash for a cab, and her mom had been so kind as to give her one of her credit cards for the duration of her visit, so she may as well use it, right? She looked up a cab company in the phone book, called and got a cab to pick her up, and left a short note for her father in case he actually noticed she was gone.

"So where to, miss?" the cabbie asked her over his shoulder.

"Take me where there's shopping," she sighed happily.

"The Plaza okay?"

"Sounds great."

Buffy smiled as she caught sight of The Plaza, a sprawling mall with three floors and several famous department stores. Oh, yes, she could spend her days here.

"Thanks," she handed the cabbie her fare.

"No problem. Hey you give us a call when you want to leave, alright?"

"Okay," she grinned as she stepped out of the cab, her mood improving my the minute.

After three hours, Buffy's tummy was making with the gurglies, so she and her five new outfits, two pairs of shoes, and various trinkets made their way to the food court. She strolled by the assortment of eateries, stopping dead when she caught sight of a huge Chinese buffet. _And we have a winner_, she thought as she stepped in line.

Right…behind…oh, no. No way. No! This trip was sucking enough all on it's own, she really, really didn't need--

"Spike?!"

The unmistakably bleached blond head whipped around, disdain immediately settling on his features as he recognized the particular voice which screeched his name. Fan-bloody-tastic.

"Buffy."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, being as I'm standing in line at a Chinese buffet, I'd say I'm getting ready to eat," he explained to her as if she was a small child, earning him a death glare.

"Thanks, I got that. What are you doing in L.A.? Shouldn't you be juvenile delinquent-ing back in Sunnydale?"

He shot her a deadly glare of his own, before answering, "I've got business here." He turned around to grab a plate and began spooning white rice onto it.

Buffy rolled her eyes, grabbing her own plate and filling it. Mmm…fried rice, dim sum, chicken and broccoli, lo mein--

Buffy and Spike's hands collided while both reaching for the lo mein spoon, then they turned to glare at each other. Suddenly Spike gave her a charming grin.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing a la Vanna White to the noodles.

Just as Buffy reached for the spoon, Spike snatched it up and dumped some lo mein onto his plate. "But, seeing as I don't see any ladies here, I guess I'll just go ahead." He turned to smirk at her before going to pay for his meal.

Buffy growled under her breath as she finished gathering up her food, then followed Spike to pay. He was waiting for her by the trash can next to the register. How fitting. She continued to walk past him, turning back around when she noticed he had followed her.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

Spike shrugged. "What? I can't sit and have a meal with a fellow Scoobie?"

"The fellow Scoobies aren't here. And you and I both know they are the only reason we can stand each other's presence. You can go now." She set her plate on a nearby table, then placed one of her shopping bags in three of the chairs, sitting down in the fourth. She closed her eyes and prayed for inner peace as Spike calmly removed the bag from the chair adjacent to her and sat down in it.

"So what are you doing here in the City of Angels?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes at his obvious phrasing. "What the hell are you doing?"

His face became the picture of innocence. "I don't know what you mean."

"I know the only reason you're sitting here is to irritate me."

"Yeah…" he smiled gleefully. "But I'm also curious. So tell me."

"Well what are _you_ doing here?"

He stared at her a moment, smirking, before he shrugged and answered. "I've got a gig."

"A what now?"

"A gig. A show. A performance."

"Performing what?"

This time he was slightly more hesitant about answering, shifting in his seat and mumbling something.

"What was that?" Buffy asked.

"I sing." He looked up sharply, glaring her a warning not to--

Buffy burst out laughing. "Oh. My. God. Spike the big bad drummer sings! Oh, man, you've got to give me a show, choirboy!"

"'S not a bleeding choir! I'm in a band. I sing and play guitar."

"What kind of band?" she asked, wiping at her eyes.

He shrugged. "We do covers, mostly. Uh, some Nirvana, Springsteen, good rock stuff."

"Wow. Gotta say, it's hard to believe. Also hard to believe is we've almost had a whole conversation without the usual attempted murder."  
  
"Always knew you thought I was sexy," he smirked.

"And we're back to the murderous thoughts."

Spike grinned at that. "Well, I spilled. Your turn."

Buffy sighed heavily. "I'm here visiting my dad. Kind of. I've barely seen him. He's either at work or working his girlfriend slash secretary."

"Ouch. Da's got a new bint, does he?"

"Yeah. Major skank."

"So you've been spending your lonely days at the mall, then?"

"Actually, this is trip number one. I've been watching lots and lots of bad TV. Ugh, there's this one really awful soap opera that I for some reason keep watching. I have no idea what's going on, but there's this doll who's really a boy or he's a boy who's really a doll or something--"

"Passions," Spike cut in. "Bloody great show."

Buffy grinned. "You do realize that this, plus the fact that you like to sing, is giving me serious fuel for when we get back to school, right?"

"At any rate," he rolled his eyes, "if you're so bored, we're playing tonight at 14 Below. You should come."

"Y'know, I'm actually desperate enough to take you up on that offer."

"Ah, so now you're desperate for me. I'm flattered, pet."

"Hmm, murderous thoughts plus the urge to vomit. That's a new one."

"Really? You inspire that feeling in me almost constantly."

"Funny."

As they continued their meal, Buffy and Spike worked out what time the band was going to be playing and where the club was. All was done in an almost civilized manner, and the ever-present jabs and insults seemed to be done in more of a playful way than anything. It finally creeped both of them out enough to hurry through the last few bites of food and go their separate ways.

When the cab dropped Buffy off at home, she was unsurprised to see the condo as empty as she had left it. Oh, wait. There was a different note left in the same place hers had been on the refrigerator. So her father had come and gone, it seemed, over to his skank's house. Big shocker there. Sighing, she grabbed another piece of paper to scribble down that she was going out to a club tonight, and she'd be home by midnight. Kinda sad that the note communication was actually a step up.

It was almost seven o'clock, and Spike had said their set began at nine. That gave her an hour and some change to get ready, and maybe get there a bit early and check out the club. She took a quick shower and began picking out something to wear. She hadn't brought much in the way of clubby-type clothes, anticipating a dull visit. Luckily, she'd bought a new leather skirt and a red halter top, the material clingy in the front and almost completely absent in the back, the shirt held on her body with a series of crisscrossing strings. After applying her makeup to give her eyes a dark, smoky look, accented with just the softest iridescent pink lip gloss, she squeezed some styling gel into her hands, running her fingers through her damp hair and crinkling the strands to maintain that untamed wet look.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked…pretty damn hot, if she did say so herself, but more than that, she looked…different than herself. She even had on a pair of chunky black boots, also newly bought. What made her go for this look? Eh, whatever. She looked good. She shrugged and called her cab.

As soon as she set foot in the club, Buffy immediately liked it. The interior was dimly lit with red and blue spotlights, and there must've been a smoke machine somewhere, as a mist filled the room. The stage was actually quite large, the rest of the club centered around it. There was a bar across the way, and she headed over to order a drink.

She sat on one of the barstools sipping on her virgin strawberry daiquiri, when most of the lights on the dance floor went out and the stage lights switched on. She stood and made her way closer to the stage as she saw Spike step up to the microphone, slipping the strap of the waiting guitar over his head to settle across his left shoulder. Without any introduction of any kind, he ripped into the first chord and began singing a fast paced song, quickly sending the crowd into a riotous frenzy. Buffy did her best to dodge the thrashing bodies, then gave up, adopting the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" technique, and began dancing wildly herself.

Which, unfortunately, quickly became very tiring, but the next song they played seemed like it would be slower-paced. Ooh! Buffy recognized this one. She couldn't remember the name of the song, but she knew it was by Nirvana. Hmm…maybe "I Don't Have A Gun?" He repeated that line a few times. Soon the song was over, but instead of getting ready to play again, Spike and his bandmates began packing up their instruments, as Spike bid the crowd thanks and goodnight. Buffy frowned at the short show, then wandered back over to the bar to sit down.

As another band was taking the stage, she heard a familiar voice ask from behind her, "Is this seat taken, luv?"

She swiveled around on her barstool and saw Spike standing before her, his forehead still glistening from the heat of the spotlights onstage.

Buffy nodded her head toward the seat next to her, which Spike took. He settled in, then ordered a bottled water from the bartender, which he promptly guzzled down.

"So what's with the short show?" Buffy asked somewhat loudly, to be heard over the other band which had started to play.

"We're just an opening act, pet. You think a high school garage band would make a headliner or something?" he said loudly back.

"Well if you'd told me it was gonna be so lame, I wouldn't have bothered coming," she snarked.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, cause you had so much going on anyway."

"Shut up."

They sat quietly nursing their drinks for a few moments. Now that the requisite insults had been issued, Buffy felt like she could begin an actual conversation.

"I liked the second song you guys did…the, um, Nirvana one? I can't remember the name of it."

"Oh, yeah, 'Come As You Are.' Bloody great song by a bloody great band." Apparently Spike felt the same way. "Right shame about Kurt Cobain's murder."

"I thought he committed suicide?"

"Psshhh," he waved her off. "Whole thing was a set-up. If you've seen the so-called suicide note he left, you could clearly see that they were song lyrics, and the part written about him offing himself was in a completely different handwriting."

"Huh. Did not know that."

"Yup."

Buffy frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "So you're uncle just lets you go to L.A. whenever you want to do these gig thingies?"

Spike shrugged. "'S my car. My petrol money. We get paid. Ol' Uncle Ethan can't really complain about anything."

"But where do you stay while you're here? I know you're not eighteen yet, so how could you get a hotel room?"

Spike grinned before pulling his wallet out of his back jeans pocket. "That's not what my I.D. says," he smirked, pulling out a California driver's license which listed his birthday a year before it really was. "The trick is to go for exactly eighteen. You still look exactly the same as when you're seventeen."

Buffy held the card close to her face, inspecting it for flaws. "Pretty nice. I bet you've got one that says you're twenty-one, too, huh?"

"Of course."

"Lemme see," she held out her hand.

"No bloody way."  
  
"C'mon!"

Spike sighed heavily, before leaning forward and staring right into Buffy's eyes. "Listen to me. If I show you, you have to promise that what you see will never leave this club, and you won't ever talk about it. Savvy?"

"Uh…sure," Buffy frowned at his sudden and overly-dramatic seriousness.

"Right then." He then pulled another card out of his wallet, snatching it back as Buffy reached out for it. "Swear it," he repeated.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she complied. "I swear I won't ever tell anyone about anything that I see."

"Okay," he mumbled as he handed the card over. Buffy took one glance down at the picture, and then her eyes flew back up to Spike, who immediately raised a finger in warning. "And don't even bloody think about laughing, you bint!"

"Too late!" Buffy burst out laughing, guffawing even as she dodged Spike's attempts at reclaiming the card. "Oh. My. GOD! What the hell is up with your hair?!? And the glasses! Oh…oh, man. Whoo!" Buffy fanned herself with said I.D. card as she calmed down. She drank the rest of her daiquiri and returned her attention to Spike's picture. "Seriously though, what the hell did you do, wear a disguise for this picture?"

"No," Spike grumbled.

"Then what?"

"I used an old school picture from when I still lived in London, alright?"

"Uh, okay. Why?"

"Well, the logic works just the opposite for fake twenty-one-year-old I.D.'s as it does for eighteen-year-old ones. If you look extremely different from your picture, but are clearly the same person, anyone checking would be more inclined to believe it was real."

"Makes sense," she nodded thoughtfully, before relinquishing such wonderfully incriminating evidence back to its owner. "So you really walked around looking like that?" she couldn't help but one last tease.

"Knew I bloody well shouldn't have shown you. But now you see that there was a reason for the change in look, yeah?"

"Oh yeah," she grinned.

Just then, the band onstage started up a particularly good beat, and Spike stood from his barstool and touched Buffy's upper arm. "C'mon," he said.

"What?" she frowned.

"Well, this is a club, Goldilocks, howsabout making use of it?"

"Again I ask the question."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, shaking his head towards the heavens. "Dancing, pet. How about we go dance?" he asked as if he were speaking to a retarded chipmunk. 

"Oh. Well why didn't you say so?" she said as she rose from her seat, leading the way onto the dance floor. Spike grit his teeth and followed behind.

They danced among the other clubbers, the band playing fairly upbeat and fast music. After about three of those songs, however, they strummed a few chords of what was obviously going to be a slow song. Buffy and Spike glanced awkwardly at each other, then almost simultaneously turned to leave the floor. Their progress was halted however, by the throngs of couples joining together who had been waiting for a slow song to dance to. Seeing that their way was blocked, the two teens uneasily drifted back together, Spike's hand's coming to rest on Buffy's hips as hers grasped his shoulders, both of their arms still stock-straight and leaving plenty of room for the holy ghost in between them.

They swayed back and forth in an extremely uncomfortable silence for a few moments, before it all got to be too much for Buffy, and she said the first thing that popped into her head.

"You sing pretty well."

Spike looked down at her with a slightly surprised look on his face. "Uh, thanks." Oddly feeling as though it was 'his turn,' he said, "You look nice tonight."

This time, both faces looked shocked at what he just said. "Uh, that is," he continued, "I can stand to look at you for longer than three seconds without wanting to heave."

"Gee, thanks," she laughed.

"You know what I mean," he grumbled.

"Yes. I do. And thank you. I think."

As the song continued, both pairs of arms slowly relaxed, and the couple drew closer together without either party being entirely aware. At last the song drew to a close, and they separated, each feeling oddly lonely at the loss of contact. Buffy glanced down at her watch.

"Oh, shoot."  
  
"Bang."

"Shut up. It's eleven-thirty. I told my dad…well, actually…wrote to my dad and told him I'd be home by midnight. I have to go call a cab."

"Piffle," he waved that idea off. "I'll give you a lift."

"Um, okay."

Together they made their way out to Spike's car, the big, black Desoto that she had dubbed 'the Beast.' Spike opened her door from her seemingly out of habit, but the weird thing was that she didn't think it was weird. Weird.

The ride back to Buffy's father's was made mostly in a surprisingly comfortable silence, not counting Spike's constant flipping through radio stations.

Buffy rolled her eyes at his erratic behavior. "Sheesh, Spike, ever think about getting tested for ADD or something?"

"Yeah right," he smirked. "Can you imagine me on Ritalin?"

"Good point."

As he pulled up in front of the condo, Buffy made a split-second decision to keep following the pattern of weirdness of the night and her not-like-her behavior. She turned in her seat to face Spike.

"So do you guys have a gig thingy tomorrow?"

"Uh, no. Next one is in three days, and that's the last one we're doing in town. Why?"

"No reason. Well, yes, okay, obviously there was a reason. I was just thinking, neither of us have anything better to do, and it's not like we know a lot of people here, so I was wondering if we should, you know, hang. Together. Or something."

Spike regarded her for a moment, as though trying to figure out if she was being sincere or not. Apparently he decided she was, because he nodded. "Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan."

Buffy grinned so genuinely, Spike couldn't help but reciprocate. "Okay then. Why don't you just come over here tomorrow, say, around noon-ish?"

"Noon?"

Buffy shrugged. "What? It's summer vacation. I like to sleep in."

"Girl after my own heart. Noon it is, then."

"'Kay. See you tomorrow," she stepped out of the car.

"Ta, luv."

Buffy made her way up to the door, and noticed that she only heard Spike drive away after she'd unlocked and opened it, like he was making sure she got in okay or something. Weird.

And they had maintained almost civilized behavior for the better part of four hours. Double weird.

And they were getting together the following day. Triple weird.

Weird. Weird. Weird.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Holy hell! An update! The world is ending, folks, this is a sure sign of the apocalypse! Hey, Satan, how's that ice fishing coming? I don't think I need to say how horribly ashamed of myself I am for abandoning this fic and it's loyal readers for so long. I'm a bad, rude, girl. But I hope this will in some way make up for it. I'm feeling the creative juices flowing again, and my fucked up life might just be making some room for more writing in it somewhere. I'm sorry for cutting this chapter off, but it was just getting too damn LONG. We'll get to see the rest of the story of how these two crazy kids got together in the next chapter, which will be up in FIVE DAYS! That's right, you heard me. Five days. I'm giving myself a deadline so I get the damn thing done! I've already got most of it handwritten (which I was doing instead of taking notes in my climatology class, but hey, we all have priorities) so I just need to type it up and finish it. Oh, one last thing. Just to let everyone know, I have never in my life been to California, therefore never been to L.A., and therefore never been to the club 14 Below. I am making this shit up. It's called fanFICTION, people! Okay, I think I've said my piece. I love you all!

Lata,  
Coquine (coquinespike@yahoo.com)

NEXT CHAPTER UP IN FIVE DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	4. A Little More Conversation

The next day, Spike arrived, as per usual, about forty-five minutes late. To tell the truth, that was just fine with Buffy, as it meant more sleep time for her. However, a contrite Spike insisted on making up for his tardiness by bringing donuts with him, three of which were chocolate glazed, and so he was instantly forgiven.

The day passed fairly quickly, which somewhat surprised Buffy. She was almost kicking herself in the head for whatever possessed her to invite him over thinking that it would improve her situation. A whole day with Spike?? It had 'tortuously slow' written all over it. Yet it seemed that any kind of company was an improvement to her perpetual alone time. They spent most of their time eating donuts and watching the horrible daytime television, but they did find common ground in that 'Passions' soap opera, and Spike was actually able to fill in most of the blank spots in the show's various plotlines. Which kind of scared her a little.

Sometime around five o'clock, Spike stood up from the couch and stretched, and Buffy's eyes were drawn to the sliver of flesh revealed by his shirt riding up his stomach as he lifted his arms above his head. The sliver of…pale, smooth, tightly muscled flesh…

She shook her head. Hard. Then looked up just as Spike was turning to face her.

"I'd best get going. Gotta meet up with the lads and rehearse some around six-ish. Plus, wouldn't want your da to come home to find his daughter had some dashing young man over while he was away."

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. "Well you don't have to worry about him ever finding that while you're visiting," she snarked.

"Ooh, nice one."

"Why thank you," she grinned. Her smile slowly faded as she realized that she actually had a decent time with him, just hanging out. Or, as the case may be, hanging in. And everything was surprisingly relaxed. Well, maybe not so surprising. It wasn't that they never spent any time together, it was just usually in the company of others, and they were usually verbally or physically abusing each other.

Buffy shrugged, and decided to run with it. "So, same time tomorrow?" she asked.

Spike looked back at her, genuinely surprised, and maybe even a little bit pleased? "Sure, pet. I'll be here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so it became a daily thing. Spike would either come over to her father's condo, or sometimes they would go out and get a bite to eat, or other times go back to Spike's motel room. It happened like it was something they had always done, this whole 'hanging out' together thing. And the talking. They were always talking.

Sometimes the conversations were absolutely inane.

Sitting on the couch in front of her father's big screen TV, Spike flipping through the channels at a dizzying rate.

"Good god, would you stop that?! I'm gonna hurl," Buffy whined.

"Oh, you are not. Quit your bitchin'," he replied.

"Technically this is my house you're loitering in. I should get the remote."

"And actually this is your father's home that you are loitering in, and you invited me to do so with you. I'm your guest, and as such, I should have the privilege of the control."

"Of the remote."

"Of the control."

"Yeah, don't hold your breath on that one, buddy."

"Bet I could longer than you."

"And you would be talking about what on earth?"

"Holding my breath. Bet I could longer than you."

"Please. You smoke!"

"Ready to admit defeat, then?"

"What. Ever. You're on."

Then, as if they were five-year-olds trying to get rid of the hiccups, they each took in a huge gulp of air and held it. They eyed each other for a moment, before almost simultaneously reaching for the other's nose, pinching the nostrils closed so that neither one could cheat.

Buffy held out for about a minute and a half, then rolled her eyes at Spike and released her breath with a gasp. Spike grinned and let his air out as well.

Buffy crossed her arms and slumped against the back of the couch. "You had to have cheated," she groused.

"First of all," Spike held up his pinky, "I play football, so my lungs have stamina. Secondly," he raised his ring finger, "I don't smoke if I have to sing in a couple of days. And third," he lifted his middle finger, "you're out of shape, Goldilocks."

Spike was immediately swatted in the face with one of the throw pillows on the couch. "In good enough shape to do that," Buffy smirked.

"I would treat me nicer than that if I were you, pet. After all, you just lost a bet, and I intend to collect."

"Oh, fabulous. What is it I have to do?"

Spike seemed to mull it over for a moment, then shook his head. "No. No, I don't think I'll collect just yet. I'll just let you know once I've come up with something real good."

Buffy whimpered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes the topics got personal.

Sitting cross-legged on the hood of Spike's Desoto, parked at the beach just after sunset, munching on French fries and onion rings.

Buffy dipped three fries in her ketchup, swallowing them down before asking, "So how old were you for your first kiss? Real kiss, I mean, with tongue."

"Twelve," Spike immediately answered, as though quite proud of the age. "Was with this bird I'd had a crush on for what felt like my whole life, name of Cecily. Thought I was in love, and she was the most beautiful, amazing girl in the world," he said wistfully. Then he shrugged, and continued, "Turned out she was really a cold-hearted rich-bitch, but hey. Still got a kiss out of it. What about you?"

"Also twelve. But it was with Angel."

"Ah."

"Well…what about first time?" she asked somewhat more shyly, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes.

"Fourteen," he sighed reluctantly. "With Dru."

"Oh…wow. Really?"

"What?" he asked, somewhat miffed. "She was my first love, we were in love. That's the way it's supposed to be, innit?" he huffed, offended.

"No, no, it's not that. It's just, the way you act sometimes, you wouldn't think it, is all. I mean, I wouldn't have known."

"Well, guess that goes to show we don't really know each other, doesn't it?"

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. "Seems like we're working on that though, huh?"

"Yeah. Guess so," he nodded, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then Spike shook himself out of it. "Well what about you? I'm assuming it was with the amazing mister forehead."

Buffy sighed, exasperated. "Yes, it was with Angel. It was about a week after my fifteenth birthday. And then four months later he left me. And the entire fucking city. But who says I'm bitter."

There was a moment of quiet then, both of them thinking surprisingly similar thoughts about the aforementioned Angel, none of which were especially pleasant.

Spike decided to dispel the tension by continuing with the topic at hand. "So, anyone in between him and Captain Cardboard?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed with a mixture of irritation and relief. "Oh my god…okay, SO not bragging, but yes, there was a rebound guy, his name was Parker. He went to one of the private schools outside Sunnydale, we met at a party, I was lonely, he seemed really nice, blah blah blah, he was a one night stand who treated me like one, it was all very stereotypical. I'm over it," she finished with a huff. Then her expression took on a devilish grin as she returned her attention to Spike. "I'm not going to ask if you had a post-Drusilla fling."

"Do not. Say. A bleeding. Word."

"I mean," she continued gleefully, "it's not like the entire school didn't know about your little tryst with--"

"I'm warning you, Summers."

"--Harmony! Oh my god Spike, seriously, what the hell were you thinking?!" Buffy guffawed. She then began imitating the cheerleader's shrieking voice: "Oh, Spikey, where are you going? I'm going to follow you around like a brainless puppy, my little Blondie-Bear!" And again with the laughing. Once she had managed to calm herself, Buffy asked again. "Really, though, Spike. Why Harmony? Everybody knew you couldn't stand the sight of her."

Spike merely shrugged, and murmured, "I'd been with Dru for almost three years. I was lonely. She was willing. Guess it just felt nice to be wanted by someone."

At his quiet admission, Buffy's mirthful face softened, and she regarded his suddenly slumped shoulders, downcast eyes focused on the food wrapper laying on the hood.

"I get that," she whispered.

Spike looked up at her then, and knew that she did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And sometimes their discussions became even more intimate.

Lounging in Spike's motel room after the band's last gig. Buffy idly strummed Spike's acoustic guitar.

"You know, I gotta ask."

"What's that, pet?" Spike asked, looking up from the sheet music he was studying.

"What's up with you and the whole music thing? I mean, it's cool and everything, but if I didn't already know it I never would've pegged mister-hard-ass-punk-rebel as a band geek."

Spike merely shrugged. "Music has always been a part of my life, I guess. Started out as a tyke with the piano lessons, then in grade school took up the violin, which in turn led to the guitar. As I got a bit older I got more interested in percussion, learned how to play most of those when I joined the symphony orchestra in my conservatory, then moved here and the rest is history."

"But what got it all started?"

Spike smiled sadly. "I'd have to say it was my mum. She made me take the piano lessons."

"Oh," she replied dumbly. The silence that followed was about to become uncomfortable, so Buffy decided to go ahead and get it out in the open. "So how is she?" she asked tentatively.

Spike took a deep breath and met her eyes. "As well as can be expected, I'd imagine. She's still in remission, so that's good."

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"Couple weeks ago, right after school let out for the summer. She called and asked if I was excited about starting our senior year."

"Right, because we're always just so excited about school. How come every parent feels the need to ask that question?"  


"Don't rightly know, pet, but apparently it's a universal thing. Parents across the globe thinking school is a happy thing. It's a right epidemic."

"Yup."

Any further conversation came skidding to a halt as they realized that their attempt to bring levity to a painful subject had failed miserably. It was common knowledge amongst the Scoobies, and a few other students in the band, that Spike's mother had taken extremely ill the year after Spike had moved to the states with his uncle. It turned out to be a malignant brain tumor, and though it was operable and removed, Anne had needed several rounds of radiation treatment and chemotherapy that nearly cost her her life. Spike had taken it pretty hard, and he almost got kicked out of school for skipping and causing trouble. But as time passed, things got back to normal, and most everybody did their best not to bring the subject up around Spike.

However, this was the first time Buffy had witnessed the almost tangible sadness that surrounded Spike if he thought about the whole situation too hard. She was just about to say something, anything to get his mind away from such dark places, when he sniffed and looked up at her.

"Sometimes," he began softly, "I can still hear her singin' to me like she used to when I was real little, you know? She liked those little folk ditties they sang back in the day, and there was this one she really fancied, she used to hum it while she was folding the wash or doing the bloody crossword. Sometimes it really got on my bleeding nerves, you know?" He coughed slightly as his voice broke on that last word. "But now I'd give just about anything to hear her sing it again."

He looked away from her then, and she knew it was to hide the emotions he was fighting. She took a deep breath, then quietly asked, "Do you know it?"

"Huh?"

"The song that your mom likes. Do you know how it goes?"

"Yeah. I know how to play most of them on the guitar."

"Would you play it for me?"

Wordlessly, Spike reached out and took the guitar from Buffy, briefly strumming it and tuning the strings, then began a lilting melody that filled the small motel room. Every so often she could hear him hum along with the tune, but he never sang the words aloud. The song was short, and all too soon he had stopped and was simply staring back at her.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy's plan to make her stay at her father's go by more quickly worked a little too well, as her mother was coming to pick her up the following evening to bring her home. And--surprise, surprise--her father was just too busy at the office to spend her final day actually with her. So, once again, she lay sprawled out on the bed in Spike's motel room, watching him cross the room back and forth as he packed his own things up, as his checkout time was noon the next day.

She spotted Spike's wallet sitting on the bedside table, and picked it up and began looking through it. Once again, she came across his fake ID's, and she took it out to better study the picture of the boy she barely recognized.

"You know what I still haven't figured out?"

"What's that, then?" his voice called back from the bathroom, and he came back into the room carrying his toothbrush and hair gel.

"What's with the drastic change in physical appearance?" She held up the ID for visual effect.

"Oi! What's with the rifling though other people's personal belongings, then?"

"Oh hush. Answer the question. I mean, when you lived in London you were all goofy with the longer, curlier hair and the glasses, and the," she squinted at the picture, "is that a bowtie?"

"You just answered your own question, there, luv."

"Well I get that part, obviously, who would voluntarily continue to look like that? But I mean, why?"

Spike was silent for a moment, then decided to answer her. "I was going to be moving to the other side of the planet. Nobody was gonna know me. Nobody was gonna be able to compare any versions of me. And most important, nobody was gonna fuck with me this time round."

"So it's all just tough guy talk?"

"Hey. Just because this isn't who I used to be doesn't mean this isn't who I am now. Just ask your ex-hunny, he'd be able to tell you if I can walk the walk. Now how about we leave off of this subject, because it's startin' to piss me off now."

"And you're looking to take me with you, by the sound of it. I was just asking. I thought we were 'getting to know each other,'" she put the last words in air quotes.

"Yeah, well, remind me why we're doin' that again?"

"At this point, I'm not sure I remember."

"Me neither."

"Jesus! What the hell crawled up your ass sideways and died?! It's like you're--devolving or something!" she shouted at him.

"Well, you're leaving!" he yelled back.

"What?? You're leaving too! What does that have to do with anyth--" She was cut off as Spike suddenly rushed forward, kneeling before her on the bed and grasping her shoulders, dragging her mouth to his in a fierce, demanding…really fucking hot kiss. The force of it knocked Buffy onto her back, but her arms were already locked around his neck and she pulled him down with her.

Spike broke away with a gasp, and looked down at the flushed and beautiful face beneath him. It was a face that once brought nothing but revulsion, and now brought forth the greatest desire he'd felt in a long time. Maybe in his entire life.

"What's happening to me?" he panted.

Buffy chose that moment to free her legs, which had been trapped at an awkward angle beneath her body, and wrap them around Spike's hips, grinding his raging hard-on against her clit, making them both gasp.

"I think we both know exactly what's happening here, Spike," she grinned. Spike met her gaze and slowly met her devilish smile with one of his own, then surged against her so hard it made her toes curl.

"I think you're right," he purred, then proceeded to slide his hands up her shirt, palming her breasts and squeezing them slightly, smirking as she whimpered at the contact. He continued to push up her shirt, until she lifted her arms so he could take it completely off, then immediately twisted open the front clasp of her bra, his mouth descending hotly to the first nipple he saw.

Buffy cried out and arched against him, his tongue flicking across her nipple before he nibbled on it lightly, making her cry out again. She reached down to thread her fingers though his hair, mussing it from it's slicked-back state in what appeared to be a caress, until she grabbed handfuls of it and dragged him up her body, her neck craning forward to catch his lips as soon as they were within reach. His mouth immediately opened and welcomed her tongue inside where he met it with his own, sliding wetly against each other.

Buffy's hands slid down Spike's back, fisting his tee shirt and pulling it out of the waist of his jeans so she could feel the silk of his skin. The contact seemed to spur him into further action, and he reached down to undo her jeans and shove them down over her hips, taking her thong with them. Dimly, Buffy realized what he was doing and lifted her hips to assist him, kicking the jeans the rest of the way off. As soon as they were free she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her searing heat in direct contact with Spike's quivering abdominal muscles, making them both gasp in shock.

Buffy began whimpering as she ground herself against his hardness, and Spike continued sucking and licking the flesh of her breasts. "Oh god…oh god…please," she whispered.

At her whimpered "please," Spike ripped himself away from her, getting up to his knees in between her legs, which remained wantonly spread. He whipped his belt out of its loops and tore open his button fly, shoving his jeans down around his thighs and collapsing back down to Buffy's waiting arms, positioned himself at her dripping entrance and with one surge forward claimed both her mouth and her body, their lips muffling each other's near screams of pleasure.

Buffy locked her legs around his hips, holding him tightly against her, willing her body to adjust to being filled so completely. Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt him pulse inside of her, even as he seemed to continually pushing against her as though trying to get his entire body inside. Then her eyes shot open, unseeing, as Spike wrapped his arms around her lower back and pressed himself so deeply inside of her she was sure she might burst, then her entire body quaked and shuddered as the fastest orgasm she'd ever had in her life rushed though her, clamping her walls down on Spike's cock and flooding it with her cum.

The sound Spike let out was a cross between a moan and a growl, and he tightened his arms around her even as he raised his head to look into her face. He saw the exact same feelings reflected there that he was experiencing. This was more intense than anything either of them had ever felt with anybody. Spike was harder than he'd ever been in his life, and Buffy had just come from having him inside of her. And they hadn't even started to move yet.

Spike remedied that situation as he held Buffy's gaze in his own, slowly pulling out of her and shuddering as he felt the pull of her inner muscles trying to keep him in. Just as slowly he pushed back in, both of them groaning as they felt every single inch of their highly sensitized flesh slide together. 

A look of understanding passed between them, then, and they both accepted that this was really happening. And that it was going to me amazing. And that slow and easy was just not going to happen this time.

Spike grinned before he grasped her hips in his hands, clutching them tightly enough to leave ten tiny bruises the next day, and began thrusting inside her as hard as he could. Buffy wailed and threw her arms up above her head, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress as he pounded into her. She was spiraling out of control at a breakneck speed, and he was close on her tail. Their grunts and moans of pleasure filled the room, raising in volume as they hurtled toward orgasm.

Spike's steady rhythm began to hitch and come undone when he felt her inner walls fluttering around him, making him pound even harder, which in turn made Buffy cry out as she finally came, squeezing him so tight he was worried he might bruise, and he pushed himself inside her as far as he could possibly go and exploded, flooding her with load after load of his cum. They wrapped their arms around each other, holding tightly as the feelings simply refused to stop.

At last their bodies began to relax, and Spike gingerly pulled himself out of her, both of them feeling slightly sore. He slid slightly off of her so as not to crush her completely, buried his face in her neck and they both promptly passed out.

Twenty minutes later Spike jolted awake with a loud, "Oh, fucking hell!"

Buffy yelped and shot up to a sitting position, got dizzy and fell right back down on her back. "What's wrong?"

"Buffy, for the love of god please tell me you're sorted out."

It took a moment for Buffy to figure out what the hell he was talking about, then couldn't help but giggle at his panic-stricken face.

"Relax, Spike. I've been on the pill since I was fourteen."

"Oh thank god," he sighed, collapsing back on top of her and nuzzling his face against her breasts, pillowing his head on them.

Buffy grunted as she pushed at his shoulders until he moved off of her, earning her a disgruntled "Hey!" from Spike. She rolled her eyes at him and began tugging off the shirt he still halfway wore, then pushed his jeans the rest of the way off his legs until he was just as naked as she. "There," she said. "Much better."

"I'm inclined to agree, pet," he murmured sleepily. He got under the covers of the bed and held open his arms to her. He was so adorable laying there with his rumpled hair and sleepy face, his lips still swollen from their fierce kisses. Buffy crawled over to him and slipped under the covers herself, sidling up against him, her heated flesh meeting his. He instinctively wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other covered hers as it lay upon his chest, her leg sliding over his to nestle in between them. They were both sound asleep in moments.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Buffy stepped out of the bathroom freshly showered and fully dressed, and watched as Spike finished up his packing.

"So you want me to just drop you off at your da's before I head out?" he asked, not looking up from the bag he was filling.

Buffy sat down on the bed to put on her shoes. "Yeah, that'd be fine. Mom should be here sometime around six tonight. Maybe I'll even see my dad before then," she added with some sarcasm.

"Right then." Spike did look at her then, holding her gaze for a moment, and their understanding was once again reaffirmed. "And we're still agreeing that this was great, but nothing can come of it, yeah? Just the consequence of spending too much time together."

"Yeah," Buffy smiled slightly, standing up from the bed. "Definitely something that should stay here in L.A. along with the rest of our temporary insanity."

Spike nodded, and they headed for the door. The car ride back to her father's was made in mostly silence, though not necessarily an uncomfortable one. Their agreement was most definitely for the best, in every way. They pulled up in front of the condo and said their "see you laters," but neither of their smiles quite reached their eyes.

As it turned out, her father did make a guest appearance, bringing home some Chinese takeout for them to eat. She was almost genuinely surprised, until she realized that he put himself at home with her just in time for Joyce to find them 'happily' enjoying a meal together. Prick.

Buffy left with her mother, making idle conversation about how her visit was, blah blah blah. Two hours later they pulled into the drive of 1630 Revello. She spent a couple of hours sitting on the couch watching TV with her mother, then decided to call it a night. She trudged up the stairs, changed into her pajamas and was asleep before her head hit the pillow. But not before her thoughts drifted back to a certain bleached acquaintance.

The next day, Buffy found herself standing in front of a door, questioning her sanity as she raised her hand to knock. A few moments later Spike swung the door open, a look of shock passing suddenly over his handsome feature. Just as suddenly, the shock melted away to pure relief.

"Oh, thank god."

Buffy's only reply was to launch herself into his waiting arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kicked the door closed and turned to go up the stairs.

They didn't make it to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

__

The present day…

Buffy was jostled out of her reverie by somebody bouncing on her bed. She opened scowling eyes, preparing to tear into Dawn for barging into her room unannounced. What she found instead was the grinning face of Spike.

"Hey," she smiled happily.

"Hey yourself," he replied.

"What are you doing here? Is it seven o'clock already?"

"Nope, not just yet. But I thought I'd come over a little early."

"What for?" she asked coyly.

"Well," he drawled, settling down next to her and leaning his torso over hers. "I just knew that I wasn't gonna be able to spend a whole evening with you without touching you, so I thought I'd get it out of the way."

"Oh really."

"Yeah. So. Wanna snog?"

"Oh yes," she giggled, then wrapped her arms around his neck and met his lips with her own, and they indulged in a nice long make-out session.

"Buffy! Spike!" Joyce's voice floated up from downstairs.

Maybe not that long.

"Yes?" Buffy called back, as Spike let out a frustrated growl against her neck, muttering something about adoring her mother, but…

Buffy couldn't agree more when her mother continued. "You're friends just pulled up in front of the house. Just thought I'd give you fair warning!"

"Gee, thanks. We'll be down in a minute!"

They both sighed as they stood up, making sure all articles of clothing were in order and no hair was messed up. They made their way down the hall and stopped at the landing of the stairs. Spike leaned down and pecked her on the lips once, then twice, and walked down the stairs. Buffy took a deep breath, waited a few moments, then followed him down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay. There is no excuse for not having this up when I said it would be. So I'm not even going to try to explain. Only apologize. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. Okay, that having been said, I hope you liked it. This whole backstory thing was a real bitch to write, and I'm hoping that continuing with the actual story will help keep me motivated. That, and lots of reviews from my wonderful readers.

Now, I'd like to do something that I've been meaning to get to. I'd like to take this time to thank a few of the other amazing authors out there for inspiring and entertaining me.

First, I'd like to thank Eurydice, whose stories can be found here on fanfiction.net and her homepage. She was the one who inspired me to even attempt to write Spuffy fanfic, in hopes that I could come up with stories even half as amazing as hers are.

Next, I'd like to dedicate this story to Echidna, whose AU Spuffy story A Touch Of Jealousy, which can be found at spuffyfantasy.com, was the inspiration to write a high school AU Spuffy fantasy fic.

Also, these last two chapters are dedicated to Cariann, whose Memories…They Always Come Back to Haunt You Series, found at vampires-kiss.net, was the inspiration for the flashback style of telling the story of how Buffy and Spike got together.

And finally, I have to give my thanks and utter respect to Mary, whose Journeys series is by far the best fanfic I have. Ever. Read. Period. If you call yourself a Spuffy shipper, then you must read this story. I'm not even going to try to explain how amazing it is. Go to allaboutspike.com and read it yourself.

I couldn't possibly list the rest of the countless authors who have touched my life. The world is too full of them, and I'd never be able to remember them all. Plus they'd fill up about three damn pages of an already way too long chapter. So with that, I bid you all adieu, and thank you.

Coquine


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